Toss Your Hat Into the Ring
Reentry into the body zone
I, at this moment, toss my hat into the ring! Once and for all, “it’s tiiimmmmeee!” the infamous announcer declares. The boxing match starts soon. As I step into the ring, I am prepared to accept the miracle of joy within my skin. My lifelong fight to find peace within my body, no matter what my fighting weight is.
The event is more significant than a fight in Madison Square Garden. My skilled opponent of societal views and bullying taunts skews my mirrored image with each glance. They attempt to fuel my self-talk against me. After years of self-loathing and feeling ashamed of what I look like, I embark on a journey of reentry into my body. I am fighting for the prized belt of honor.
In one corner is me — the overweight person who found comfort and solace in food at a young age — a suit of armor worn with the misconception of protection and nurturing. In the opposing corner is the persona of body size judgment, mine and millions of others. Each class in this division faces the same judging panel, no matter what weight they are fighting at.
The weigh-in is the hardest. If you are over your weight class as you step on the scale, it disqualifies you. Sometimes you are stripped naked, all your vulnerability left wide open, hoping that the needle on the scale will move to an acceptable level. Or, at other times, if your opponent is agreeable, you pay the penalty and are allowed to fight. Even with those two scenarios, the reminder from the all-mighty needle on the scale measuring your worth is unacceptable at the weigh-in.
Why did I choose to throw my hat into this ring? Questioning, “Why now? What’s different?” ruminates in my mind. It’s a fight I have lost a million times and spent a fortune on the hope of winning. The difference today is I am no longer looking for exterior sources for my happiness. From the time I was a little girl, I sought people to love me for who I am inside, not my external body. It fed a life of constantly trying to prove I was lovable. If only I were perfect became my inner driving force. Sometimes, I feel I kept the weight on, waiting for that special someone to not look at me through the limited human lens of desire, but see my beauty illuminating from within. I told myself for years that once someone loved me for who I am, then the weight would come off.
However, it has come to my awareness that the person I was waiting for was me. I had to love my whole self, not just my inner being. I had to re-associate with my body, the scary place of feelings and trauma responses from mean voices of my past, and bring to light my truth. I wanted it all to be different, yet I continued, almost daily, to bully myself because of my weight.
The constant “What’s wrong with me?” question was previously answered only by continual comparison to others with bodies like works of art, while I told myself mine was just the mistake on the canvas that needed to be fixed or covered up.
Honestly, all my life, I thought I could think my way out of it. If I learned enough, changed my perspective, opened my mind, and used my intelligence, it would solve the problem. I felt that my spirituality and my beliefs of the power of my mind would solve my problem. WRONG!
I missed the critical component. It wasn’t simply having the right thoughts or taking the right actions; it involved changing the feelings surrounding food, exercise, weight, and body image.
People, only known to me through their words and purpose in life, provided the training ground for this current boxing match. Louise Hay- author of You Can Heal Your Life; Dr. Joe Dispenza and his studies (and experience) of body-brain coherence; Bessel van der Kolk — author of The Body Keeps Score; and Peter Levine -with his teachings on fear. All of them shared a component of thoughts affecting your body.
One significant memory that my body holds often occurred in previous attempts at the gym. I was having yet another “personal” training session. Walking on the treadmill, the trainer reached over and upped the speed on my walk. At a precise moment, I started having a panic attack. I asked her to stop. She looked at me and said, “Push through it. You can do it!” I looked her straight in the eye and said, “My heart rate is at 152. I’m going into a panic attack.” “How did you know that?” she asked as she looked at my heart rate meter. I replied, “I just do. It always happens at 152.” It wasn’t until years later; I figured out that heart rate number was my fear number, and my body reacted with feelings of panic; even though I was safe in the current moment, my body did not know that.
Disassociation from my body was a survival tool that I held on to for too long. I am ready for this boxing match, mind, body, and soul. I have practiced being “in the zone” like athletes training for the big game or match. I have visualized and changed my mindset. I am aware of trusting my skills, knowing my body’s reactions, and releasing judgment surrounding my thoughts. Those judgments are what kept me in the space of disassociation. Having self-compassion, combined with the self-knowledge of how my brain processes its fear responses, allows me now to walk into the ring with ease and joy. I no longer want to run from this round of association.
Yes! I throw my hat into the ring to face the opponent of the fear that no longer serves me. My secret weapon is my uppercut. A left-handed hook that throws a power punch against my past and aligns me with being in the zone. Each muscle movement reminds me of its power and strength. No longer the enemy of betrayal, it’s a close association that deserves honor and respect.
Reentry into this body of mine is the key component to experiencing the miracle of peace and joy. It’s no longer about the fight but the dance within the ring.